No Country for Old Men (18 page)

Is that him?

Yeah, that's him.

You look like you wished it wasnt.

I get to tell his wife.

I'm sorry about that.

Bell nodded.

Well, the sheriff said. There aint nothin you could of done about it.

No, Bell said. But you always like to think there is.

The sheriff covered Moss's face and reached and lifted back the plastic at the other table
and looked at Bell. Bell shook his head.

They'd rented two rooms. Or he did. Paid cash. You couldnt read the name on the register.
Just a scrawl.

His name was Moss.

All right. We'll get your information down at the office. Kind of a skankylookin little
old girl.

Yeah.

He covered her face again. I dont reckon his wife is goin to like that part of it neither,
he said.

No, I dont expect she will.

The sheriff looked at the nurse. She was still standing leaning against the door. How many
times was she hit? he said. Do you know?

No I dont, Sheriff. You can look at her if you want. I dont mind and I know she wont.

That's all right. It'll be on the autopsy. Are you ready, Ed Tom?

Yeah. I was ready fore I come in here.

He sat in the sheriff's office alone with the door shut and stared at the phone on the
desk. Finally he got up and went out. The deputy looked up.

He's gone home, I reckon.

Yessir, the deputy said. Can I help you with somethin, Sheriff?

How far is it to El Paso?

It's about a hundred and twenty miles.

You tell him I said thank you and I'll give him a call tomorrow.

Yessir.

He stopped and ate on the far side of town and sat in the booth and sipped his coffee and
watched the lights out on the highway. Something wrong. He couldnt make sense out of it.
He looked at his watch. 1:20. He paid and walked out and got in the cruiser and sat there.
Then he drove to the intersection and turned east and drove back to the motel again.

Chigurh checked into a motel on the eastbound interstate and walked out across a windy
field in the dark and watched across the highway through a pair of binoculars. The big
overland trucks loomed up in the glasses and drew away. He squatted on his heels with his
elbows on his knees, watching. Then he went back to the motel.

He set his alarm for one oclock and when it went off he got up and showered and dressed
and walked out to his truck with his small leather bag and put it behind the seat.

He parked in the motel parking lot and he sat there for some time. Leaning back in the
seat and watching in the rearview mirror. Nothing. The police cars were long gone. The
yellow police tape across the door lifted in the wind and the trucks droned past headed
for Arizona and California. He got out and walked up to the door and blew out the lock
with his stungun and walked in and shut the door behind him. He could see the room pretty
well by the light through the windows. Small spills of light from the bulletholes in the
plywood door. He pulled the little bedside table over to the wall and stood and took a
screwdriver from his rear pocket and began to back the screws out of the louvered steel
cover of the airduct. He set it on the table and reached in and pulled out the bag and
stepped down and walked over to the window and looked out at the parking lot. He took the
pistol from behind his belt and opened the door and stepped out and closed it behind him
and stooped under the tape and walked down to his truck and got in.

He set the bag in the floor and he'd reached for the key to turn on the ignition when he
saw the Terrell County cruiser pull into the lot in front of the motel office a hundred
feet away. He let go of the key and sat back. The cruiser pulled into a parking space and
the lights went out. Then the motor. Chigurh waited, the pistol in his lap.

When Bell got out he took a look around the lot and then walked up to the door at 117 and
tried the knob. The door was unlocked. He ducked under the tape and pushed the door open
and reached and found the wallswitch and turned on the light.

The first thing he saw was the grille and the screws lying on the table. He shut the door
behind him and stood there. He stepped to the window and looked past the edge of the
curtain out at the parking lot. He stood there for some time. Nothing moved. He saw
something lying in the floor and stepped over and picked it up but he already knew what it
was. He turned it in his hand. He walked over and sat on the bed and weighed the little
piece of brass in his palm. Then he tilted it into the ashtray on the bedside table. He
picked up the telephone but the line was dead. He put the receiver back in the cradle. He
took his pistol from the holster and flipped open the gate and checked the shells in the
cylinder and closed the gate with his thumb and sat with the pistol resting on his knee.

You dont know for sure that he's out there, he said.

Yes you do. You knew it at the restaurant. That's why you come back here.

Well what do you aim to do?

He got up and walked over and switched off the light. Five bulletholes in the door. He
stood with the revolver in his hand, his thumb on the knurled hammer. Then he opened the
door and walked out.

He walked to the cruiser. Studying the cars in the lot. Pickup trucks for the most part.
You could always see the muzzleflash first. Just not first enough. Can you feel it when
someone is watching you? A lot of people thought so. He reached the cruiser and opened the
door with his left hand. The domelight came on. He stepped in and pulled the door shut and
laid the pistol on the seat beside him and got out his key and put it in the ignition and
started the car. Then he backed out of the parking space and switched on the lights and
swung out of the lot.

When he was out of sight of the motel he pulled over onto the shoulder and took the
speaker from the hook and called the sheriff's office. They sent two cars. He hung the
mike up and put the cruiser in neutral and rolled back down the edge of the highway until
he could just see the motel sign. He looked at his watch. 1:45. That seven minute time
would make it 1:52. He waited. At the motel nothing moved. At 1:52 he saw them come down
the highway and tail each other up the offramp with sirens on and lights blazing. He kept
his eyes on the motel. Any vehicle that came out of the lot and headed up the access road
he'd already determined to run it off the road.

When the cruisers pulled into the motel he started the car and turned on the lights and
did a U-turn and went back down the road the wrong way and pulled into the lot and got out.

They went down the parking lot vehicle by vehicle with flashlights and their guns drawn
and came back again. Bell was the first one back and he stood leaning against his cruiser.
He nodded to the deputies. Gentlemen, he said. I think we been outgeneraled.

They holstered their pistols. He and the chief deputy walked over to the room and Bell
showed him the lock and the airvent and the lock cylinder.

What's he done that with, Sheriff? the deputy said, holding the cylinder in his hand.

It's a long story, Bell said. I'm sorry to of got you all out here for nothin.

Not a problem, Sheriff.

You tell the sheriff I'll call him from El Paso.

Yessir, I'll sure do it.

Two hours later he checked into the Rodeway Inn on the east side of town and got the key
and went to his room and went to bed. He woke at six as he always did and got up and
closed the curtains and went back to bed but he couldnt sleep. Finally he got up and
showered and dressed and went down to the coffeeshop and got his breakfast and read the
paper. There'd be nothing about Moss and the girl yet. When the waitress came with more
coffee he asked her what time they got the evening paper.

I dont know, she said. I quit readin it.

I dont blame you. I would if I could.

I quit readin it and I made my husband quit readin it.

Is that right?

I dont know why they call it a newspaper. I dont call that stuff news.

No.

When was the last time you read somethin about Jesus Christ in the newspaper?

Bell shook his head. I dont know, he said. I guess I'd have to say it would be a while.

I guess it would too, she said. A long while.

He'd knocked on other doors with the same sort of message, it wasnt all that new to him.
He saw the window curtain move slightly and then the door opened and she stood there in
jeans with her shirttail out looking at him. No expression. Just waiting. He took off his
hat and she leaned against the doorjamb and turned her face away.

I'm sorry, mam, he said.

Oh God, she said. She staggered back into the room and slumped to the floor and buried her
face in her forearms with her hands over her head. Bell stood there holding his hat. He
didnt know what to do. He couldnt see any sign of the grandmother. Two Spanish maids were
standing in the parking lot watching and whispering to each other. He stepped into the
room and closed the door.

Carla Jean, he said.

Oh God, she said.

I'm just as sorry as I can be.

Oh God.

He stood there, his hat in his hand. I'm sorry, he said.

She raised her head and looked at him. Her crumpled face. Damn you, she said. You stand
there and tell me you're sorry? My husband is dead. Do you understand that? You say you're
sorry one more time and by God if I wont get my gun and shoot you.

No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy

No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy

I had to take her at her word. Not a lot else you could do. I never saw her again. I
wanted to tell her that the way they had it in the papers wasnt right. About him and that
girl. It turned out she was a runaway. Fifteen years old. I dont believe that he had
anything to do with her and I hate it that she thought that. Which you know she did. I
called her a number of times but she'd hang up on me and I cant blame her. Then when they
called me from Odessa and told me what had happened I couldnt hardly believe it. It didnt
make no sense. I drove up there but there wasnt nothin to be done. Her grandmother had
just died too. I tried to see if I could get his fingerprints off the FBI database but
they just drew a blank. Wanted to know what his name was and what he'd done and all such
as that. You end up lookin like a fool. He's a ghost. But he's out there. You wouldnt
think it would be possible to just come and go thataway. I keep waitin to hear somethin
else. Maybe I will yet. Or maybe not. It's easy to fool yourself. Tell yourself what you
want to hear. You wake up in the night and you think about things. I aint sure anymore
what it is I do want to hear. You tell yourself that maybe this business is over. But you
know it aint. You can wish all you want.

My daddy always told me to just do the best you knew how and tell the truth. He said there
was nothin to set a man's mind at ease like wakin up in the morning and not havin to
decide who you were. And if you done somethin wrong just stand up and say you done it and
say you're sorry and get on with it. Dont haul stuff around with you. I guess all that
sounds pretty simple today. Even to me. All the more reason to think about it. He didnt
say a lot so I tend to remember what he did say. And I dont remember that he had a lot of
patience with havin to say things twice so I learned to listen the first time. I might of
strayed from all of that some as a younger man but when I got back on that road I pretty
much decided not to quit it again and I didnt. I think the truth is always simple. It has
pretty much got to be. It needs to be simple enough for a child to understand. Otherwise
it'd be too late. By the time you figured it out it would be too late.

Chigurh stood at the receptionist's desk dressed in suit and tie. He set the case in the
floor at his feet and looked around the office.

How do you spell that? she said.

He told her.

Is he expecting you?

No. He's not. But he's going to be glad to see me.

Just a minute.

She buzzed the inner office. There was a silence. Then she hung the phone up. Go right in,
she said.

He opened the door and walked in and a man at the desk stood up and looked at him. He came
around the desk and held out his hand. I know that name, he said.

They sat on a sofa in the corner of the office and Chigurh set the case on the coffeetable
and nodded at it. That's yours, he said.

What is it?

It's some money that belongs to you.

The man sat looking at the case. Then he got up and went over to the desk and leaned and
pushed a button. Hold my calls, he said.

He turned and put his hands on either side of the desk behind him and leaned back and
studied Chigurh. How did you find me? he said.

What difference does it make?

It makes a difference to me.

You dont have to worry. Nobody else is coming.

How do you know?

Because I'm in charge of who is coming and who is not. I think we need to address the
issue here. I dont want to spend a lot of time trying to put your mind at ease. I think it
would be both hopeless and thankless. So let's talk about money.

All right.

Some of it is missing. About a hundred thousand dollars. Part of that was stolen and part
of it went to cover my expenses. I've been at some pains to recover your property so I'd
prefer not to be addressed as some sort of bearer of bad news here. There is two point
three mil in that case. I'm sorry I couldnt recover it all, but there you are.

The man hadnt moved. After a while he said: Who the hell are you?

My name is Anton Chigurh.

I know that.

Then why did you ask?

What do you want. I guess that's my question.

Well. I'd say that the purpose of my visit is simply to establish my bonafides. As someone
who is an expert in a difficult field. As someone who is completely reliable and
completely honest. Something like that.

Someone I might do business with.

Yes.

You're serious.

Completely.

Chigurh watched him. He watched the dilation in his eyes and the pulse in the artery of
his neck. The rate of his breathing. When he'd first put his hands on the desk behind him
he had looked somewhat relaxed. He was still standing in the identical attitude but he
didnt look that way anymore.

There's not a bomb in that damn bag is there?

No. No bombs.

Chigurh undid the straps and unlatched the brass hasp and opened the leather flap and
tipped the case forward.

Yes, the man said. Put that away.

Chigurh closed the bag. The man stood up from his leaning against the desk. He wiped his
mouth with his foreknuckle.

I think what you need to consider, Chigurh said, is how you lost this money in the first
place. Who you listened to and what happened when you did.

Yes. We cant talk here.

I understand. In any case I dont expect you to absorb all of this at one sitting. I'll
call you in two days time.

All right.

Chigurh rose from the couch. The man nodded toward the case. You could do a lot of
business on your own with that, he said.

Chigurh smiled. We have a lot to talk about, he said. We'll be dealing with new people
now. There wont be any more problems.

What happened to the old people?

They've moved on to other things. Not everyone is suited to this line of work. The
prospect of outsized profits leads people to exaggerate their own capabilities. In their
minds. They pretend to themselves that they are in control of events where perhaps they
are not. And it is always one's stance upon uncertain ground that invites the attentions
of one's enemies. Or discourages it.

And you? What about your enemies?

I have no enemies. I dont permit such a thing.

He looked around the room. Nice office, he said. Low key. He nodded to a painting on the
wall. Is that original?

The man looked at the painting. No, he said. It's not. But I own the original. I keep it
in a vault.

Excellent, said Chigurh.

The funeral was on a cold and windy day in March. She stood beside her grandmother's
sister. The sister's husband sat in front of her in a wheelchair with his chin resting in
his hand. The dead woman had more friends than she would have reckoned. She was surprised.
They'd come with their faces veiled in black. She put her hand on her uncle's shoulder and
he reached up across his chest and patted it. She had thought maybe he was asleep. The
whole while that the wind blew and the preacher talked she had the feeling that someone
was watching her. Twice she even looked around.

It was dark when she got home. She went into the kitchen and put the kettle on and sat at
the kitchen table. She hadnt felt like crying. Now she did. She lowered her face into her
folded arms. Oh Mama, she said.

When she went upstairs and turned on the light in her bedroom Chigurh was sitting at the
little desk waiting for her.

She stood in the doorway, her hand falling slowly away from the wallswitch. He moved not
at all. She stood there, holding her hat. Finally she said: I knowed this wasnt done with.

Smart girl.

I aint got it.

Got what?

I need to set down.

Chigurh nodded toward the bed. She sat and put her hat on the bed beside her and then
picked it up again and held it to her.

Too late, Chigurh said.

I know.

What is it that you havent got?

I think you know what I'm talkin about.

How much do you have.

I dont have none of it. I had about seven thousand dollars all told and I can tell you
it's been long gone and they's bills aplenty left to pay yet. I buried my mother today. I
aint paid for that neither.

I wouldnt worry about it.

She looked at the bedside table.

It's not there, he said.

She sat slumped forward, holding her hat in her arms. You've got no cause to hurt me, she
said.

I know. But I gave my word.

Your word?

Yes. We're at the mercy of the dead here. In this case your husband.

That dont make no sense.

I'm afraid it does.

I dont have the money. You know I aint got it.

I know.

You give your word to my husband to kill me?

Yes.

He's dead. My husband is dead.

Yes. But I'm not.

You dont owe nothin to dead people.

Chigurh cocked his head slightly. No? he said.

How can you?

How can you not?

They're dead.

Yes. But my word is not dead. Nothing can change that.

You can change it.

I dont think so. Even a nonbeliever might find it useful to model himself after God. Very
useful, in fact.

You're just a blasphemer.

Hard words. But what's done cannot be undone. I think you understand that. Your husband,
you may be distressed to learn, had the opportunity to remove you from harm's way and he
chose not to do so. He was given that option and his answer was no. Otherwise I would not
be here now.

You aim to kill me.

I'm sorry.

She put the hat down on the bed and turned and looked out the window. The new green of the
trees in the light of the vaporlamp in the yard bending and righting again in the evening
wind. I dont know what I ever done, she said. I truly dont.

Chigurh nodded. Probably you do, he said. There's a reason for everything.

She shook her head. How many times I've said them very words. I wont again.

You've suffered a loss of faith.

I've suffered a loss of everthing I ever had. My husband wanted to kill me?

Yes. Is there anything that you'd like to say?

To who?

I'm the only one here.

I dont have nothin to say to you.

You'll be all right. Try not to worry about it.

What?

I see your look, he said. It doesn't make any difference what sort of person I am, you
know. You shouldnt be more frightened to die because you think I'm a bad person.

I knowed you was crazy when I seen you settin there, she said. I knowed exactly what was
in store for me. Even if I couldnt of said it.

Chigurh smiled. It's a hard thing to understand, he said. I see people struggle with it.
The look they get. They always say the same thing.

What do they say.

They say: You dont have to do this.

You dont.

It's not any help though, is it?

No.

So why do you say it?

I aint never said it before.

Any of you.

There's just me, she said. There aint nobody else.

Yes. Of course.

She looked at the gun. She turned away. She sat with her head down, her shoulders shaking.
Oh Mama, she said.

None of this was your fault.

She shook her head, sobbing.

You didnt do anything. It was bad luck.

She nodded.

He watched her, his chin in his hand. All right, he said. This is the best I can do.

He straightened out his leg and reached into his pocket and drew out a few coins and took
one and held it up. He turned it. For her to see the justice of it. He held it between his
thumb and forefinger and weighed it and then flipped it spinning in the air and caught it
and slapped it down on his wrist. Call it, he said.

She looked at him, at his outheld wrist. What? She said.

Call it.

I wont do it.

Yes you will. Call it.

God would not want me to do that.

Of course he would. You should try to save yourself. Call it. This is your last chance.

Heads, she said.

He lifted his hand away. The coin was tails.

I'm sorry.

She didnt answer.

Maybe it's for the best.

She looked away. You make it like it was the coin. But you're the one.

It could have gone either way.

The coin didnt have no say. It was just you.

Perhaps. But look at it my way. I got here the same way the coin did.

She sat sobbing softly. She didnt answer.

For things at a common destination there is a common path. Not always easy to see. But
there.

Everthing I ever thought has turned out different, she said. There aint the least part of
my life I could of guessed. Not this, not none of it.

I know.

You wouldnt of let me off noway.

I had no say in the matter. Every moment in your life is a turning and every one a
choosing. Somewhere you made a choice. All followed to this. The accounting is scrupulous.
The shape is drawn. No line can be erased. I had no belief in your ability to move a coin
to your bidding. How could you? A person's path through the world seldom changes and even
more seldom will it change abruptly. And the shape of your path was visible from the
beginning.

She sat sobbing. She shook her head.

Yet even though I could have told you how all of this would end I thought it not too much
to ask that you have a final glimpse of hope in the world to lift your heart before the
shroud drops, the darkness. Do you see?

Oh God, she said. Oh God.

I'm sorry.

She looked at him a final time. You dont have to, she said. You dont. You dont.

He shook his head. You're asking that I make myself vulnerable and that I can never do. I
have only one way to live. It doesnt allow for special cases. A coin toss perhaps. In this
case to small purpose. Most people dont believe that there can be such a person. You can
see what a problem that must be for them. How to prevail over that which you refuse to
acknowledge the existence of. Do you understand? When I came into your life your life was
over. It had a beginning, a middle, and an end. This is the end. You can say that things
could have turned out differently. That they could have been some other way. But what does
that mean? They are not some other way. They are this way. You're asking that I second say
the world. Do you see?